


Starkiller Base: a Health and Safety Review

by Blankdice



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bad base design, Comedy, Death, Gen, Minor Character Death, Starkiller Base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blankdice/pseuds/Blankdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starkiller Base may look cool, but how much has been sacrificed to achieve that perfect menacing ambiance? A sampling of incidents.</p><p>This is where I poke fun at the all the little details that don't make sense. Don't worry, I do it because I care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starkiller Base: a Health and Safety Review

**Case: FN-2977**

 

“Did you hear what that guy did to the monitor banks in sector seven?”

FN-2971 shook her head, clunky helmet swinging from side to side. “No,” she said, voice muffled through the armour, “but I can imagine. Lots of broken equipment?”

“You got that right.”

They turned a corner onto one of the walkways edging a long chasm filled with machinery. One end was lost in darkness, the other sealed with heavy doors against the snow.

“Exposed wiring, too. They had to seal the whole area off so no one would wander through and get electrocuted.”

“I hope it's worth keeping him around, because,” she shrugged. None of the officers were listening, it was more or less safe. The stormtrooper stared ahead, down the walkway. The field of vision in these helmets was not the best, so she had to turn physically to get her squadmate into view.

“Well, you know he's a favourite,” FN-2977 said. “Despite that whole,” he drew himself into a regal pose, switched the hold on his rifle to mimic a saber. He swung, battering an imaginary monitor bank.

The other stormtrooper grinned under her helmet and struck a similar pose. Legs apart, chin up, one arm straight out and her hand grasping towards her companion. “Tell me everything,” she growled.

“Oh no,” he said, hands at his throat, gasping, staggering backwards. “Argh!”

“Out of my sight!” she said, turning away, doing her best impression of a sneer while wearing a helmet. This meant she could no longer see her squadmate, but the pose was pretty integral to the performance. She swept her arm at FN-2977 in a dramatic arc, knocking into something outside her field of vision. It might have been FN-2977, she couldn't see and anyway, he was wearing armour. He cried out dramatically.

FN-2971 chuckled, a little nervously. “Anyway, we should stop before someone sees us. Wouldn't want to risk a reprimand.” She paused, but there was no answer. “Sevens?” she said, turned in a tight circle. “Two-nine-seven-seven?”

A moment later, there was a crunch down in the chasm.

 

**Case: Lieutenant Hauk**

 

A trio stood on a ledge overlooking a trench of sorts, open to the chilly air. Defense turrets were mounted on either side, just now turning and coming into position.

The left figure, dressed in civilian clothes not quite suited to the climate, had her hands clenched on the low wall seperating the group from the drop below.

“Our previous architect had some strange ideas,” the captain said, helmet still on and voice muted. The new architect could not blame them, she would have done the same if she had nice, warm armour. “We would like you to observe this training exercise and identify any problems.”

“Yes, of course,” the architect said.

“Captain,” the other said, a lieutenant with his head uncharacteristically bare, “they are ready now.”

“Is this an, er, exercise with real ammunition?” the architect asked.

“Yes,” the captain said. “Lieutenant Hauk, give the sign.”

The architect raised one hand, the other clenched even tighter on the wall. “Because, you see,” she said in a rush, “I can already tell you I see a weakness in this design, and I would really advice against using real-”

A targeting drone took this moment to swoop low into the trench. It had come from over and around one of the buildings, and was now darting down. The turrets swiveled, barrells trained on the drone, a whining sound the only thing heralding the impending blast. The drone darted up, past the balcony.

The architect ducked.

The first blast took out quite an expensive array of sensor equipment on the wall of the trench. The second took out a sizeable chunk of balcony, including the wall.

“Oh no,” the architect said, when she regained her hearing. “The lieutenant!”

The captain sighed, brushed some soot of their armour.

 

**Case: Engineer Thalo**

 

“You must let me put in a failsafe,” the man said. He was standing in front of a massive set of doors. Two TIE fighters stood ready to be deployed. Outside, the landscape was almost peaceful. Wind rustled through the trees, pushing a gust of powdery snow inside.

“That is ridiculous,” said the corporal, “we need to be able to open these doors at any moment.”

“But you don't want to open them at just any moment,” engineer Thalo insisted. “Believe me, there are times you want to keep them shut, no matter what.”

The corporal rolled his shoulders, and probably his eyes. Thalo couldn't see, due to the helmet. “We need to be able to defend ourselves at all times. That means being able to deploy the starfighters whenever they are needed.”

A dim hum grew somewhere far away. “But it's not safe,” Thalo said.

“Right, I'm sure we can deal with that.” The corporal stood with his back to to the doors, and therefor did not see the glow on the horizon.

“There's no need to be sarcastic, at this distance from,” Thalo started, and changed mid-sentence to: “what is that?”

The corporal turned. “Ah, I see they've started testing.”

“Oh no,” said Thalo.

Outside, trees swayed. The wind increased, blew a thick cloud of snow against the fighters and then dropped to nothing. The trees bent, pushed down flat to the ground and there was a moment of perfect silence before a deafening roar thundered through the hangar doors, crashed one of the TIE fighters onto its side and swept the corporal into a wall and engineer Thalo away, straight into one of Starkiller Base's convenient bottomless pits.

 

**Case: Corporal Medulia, FN-4402, FN-3084 (see also: case: FN-2977)**

 

FN-4402 crouched to affix one of the struts to the handrail. He didn't bother to screw it down tight, this was only a mock-up. To his left, the corporal stood, a few steps back from the handrail.

“I mean,” she said, “it doesn't look very dangerous.”

“That is rather the point,” the architect said, wringing her hands. She had been at Starkiller Base for a few months now, and was clever enough to stay away from the chasms.

“No, no,” said corporal Medulia. “I mean, it doesn't fit with the aesthetic we're going for here.”

“Yes, all right.” The architect smiled. FN-4402 could see her time here was taking its toll, the smile was barely better than a grimace. “But consider this: you won't be losing any more stormtroopers to, er, accidental falls.” Her eyes flicked to the chasm and then murmured: “And you won't even have to do away with the ridiculous chasms.”

“Ye-es,” the corporal said, drawing the syllable out. She closed the distance between her and the handrail, rested her hand on it lightly. “I suppose so.”

The architect smiled again, full of hope. FN-4402 moved on to the next section of handrail. No one had told him to stop, and he would rather look busy that risk being involved in this conversation.

“What do you think, 3084?” said the corporal. FN-4402 breathed a sigh of relief, but not too loud.

“Sir?” the stormtrooper said. “I'm sure I can't judge.”

“Oh, come on,” said corporal Medulia, and beckoned the stormtrooper over. “Handrail or no handrail, it's not that hard.”

FN-3084 approached, tentatively touched the metal rod as if afraid it might be electified. “It will cut down on accidents, sir.”

“Ugh, you too,” said Medulia. “No one here considers how this sort of thing would look, how it would affect our reputation.” She curled a lip and crossed her arms, leaning on the handrail. “This is not a nice Coruscant balcony, this is Starkiller Ba-!” What would have been a word turned into a wordless scream as something snapped and the entire handrail tipped forward under corporal Medulia's weight.

She toppled into the chasm, hands still clenched around the metal handrail. Unfortunately, she was not the only one holding it. FN-3084 followed, stumbling forward, off balance by the sharp pull on the remains of the handrail. As for FN-4402, he'd had his arm wrapped around part of the structure to jimmy a stubborn screw into its proper position.

In a matter of moments, the only one left standing on the walkway was the architect, unable to stop herself from taking another step away from the edge.

 

**Case: FN-6738**

 

“Well, FN-6736 says he last saw his squadmate in the corridors of sector 14, between the hangar and the training areas.”

“How can he be missing?” The captain made a tsk-ing sound. “Where would he even go?”

“Maybe he wandered outside, sir,” said the lieutenant. She shifted slightly, clasped her hands behind her back. “Through the hangar. It is quite cold outside, and he probably wasn't wearing the proper equipment.”

The captain rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, look up surveillance for that sector.”

“Er,” said the lieutenant, “there is none in those corridors, sir.”

“No video?”

“No sir.”

“Audio? Some sort of pressure system? Records of doors opening?”

“We have the doors, sir,” said the lieutenant, and the captain's face brightened, “but only whether they were opened, not who went through. And while the hangar opened, a patrol was scheduled around that time. He could have slipped out with them.”

The captain sank back into his chair again, hope draining from his face. “That's the third one this month. Send another request for surveillance equipment.”

“Yes sir,” said the lieutenant, making a note. “I will let you know when this one gets denied.”

She managed to duck out of the office in time to dodge the thrown paperweight. It thunked heavily against the wall, undoubtedly leaving a dent. She made a note to contact maintenance.

 

 


End file.
